you, me, handcuffs must it always end this way?
by afastmachine
Summary: Emma and Hook get down a dirty with her handcuffs. Shameless PWP with cuddling and snark afterwards.


Crossposted to AO3, Tumblr, and LJ.

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"Gods, _Emma_," Hook moans, jerking against the cuffs that keep him from reaching for her. Emma just smirks at him from her position between his legs like the vixen she is.

"Doesn't feel very good, does it," she murmurs, breath ghosting against his cock. She leans down and licks a stripe up it, finishing with a swirl at his tip. It feels like an electric bolt after all her teasing, and it strikes right down to his toes.

Emma Swan is stubborn and sarcastic and the most infuriating woman he's ever know. And yet here he is, tied to her bed while she fucks with him(unfortunately not literally; not yet).

Abruptly, she sits up, offering him a view that never gets old, and slinks up his body. She dips to kiss his stomach and up his chest, and he groans, pulling at her headboard. He knows his wrist is going to be raw after tonight, but frankly, he doesn't care. He gets to have her.

If she'll ever get with the program.

She's reached his neck when she sits back and takes a moment to admire him, purposefully rubbing her ass against his cock, and he's pretty sure there are fireworks sparking behind his eyes.

"Emma," he growls warningly, because there's not a whole lot else he can do. And she grins at him. The woman _grins_ at him. _Gods,_ he repeats in his head, but his train of thought is disrupted when she circles her hips, and he slams his head back against the bed. She is a _terrible_ person.

She's still smiling when she leans down and nips at his bottom lip. Taking advantage of the situation, he surges forward, taking advantage of her surprise to lick his way into her mouth, hungrily trying to pull her back to him, following her up anyway until her hand comes out and shoves him back against the bed. She's frowning now.

"That was bad form, Hook." She scoots back against him, and he is quickly losing patience with this game.

"That's not my name, _Emma_," he sneers back at her. She quirks an eyebrow at him. Hand still planted firmly against his chest, she leans down again, brushing her nipples against his chest as she leans in to kiss him softly, almost chastely. This time he's determined to not give her the satisfaction of the effect it has on him. She pulls back and smiles, inches from his face, when she catches on to what he's doing. He smiles back at her, throwing as much snark as he can behind it, and for a minute they're at a stalemate.

And then Emma plays the ace up her sleeve, and in one swift movement positions him at her entrance and slides down on him, wriggling a little once she's firmly planted on his lap.

Really, no man can keep quiet at that. Doesn't mean he's ever going to admit that the sound he made was more like a squeak than anything else.

She's grinning again, like the cat that got the cream, and he'd do anything to wipe that off her face, so he bucks up against her, thrusting as deep as he can from this angle. It works. Her head rolls back and her thighs tighten around his hips as she undulates above him and it's the most beautiful sight he's ever seen. Slowly, she starts to move, in little bits at first, and then more and more, until she's sliding almost completely off of him before lowering herself back down. It's infuriatingly slow but he knows she can't hold out forever. Her own impenetrable facade is cracking as her breathing speeds up and her moans turn deep and stuttered. Soon she's practically bouncing on him, and it's obscene the way her breasts move, how powerful her thighs are against him. He desperately wants to kiss, lick, nip, bruise, suck, _touch_ anything, but that will have to wait for later. For next time. His heart does a little uncharacteristic stutter at the thought of _next time_.

All the paths that have led him here, to her bed, watching her come undone above him. Knowing that there will be a next time.

His attention is drawn back to her when her hand falls between her legs, and she's so close, he can feel it, the way she's fluttering around him, and all he wants to do is reach between them, press over her hand, against the spot between her legs, and feel her crash down around him. But he can't. He jerks at the cuffs and growls in frustration. Emma grins unsteadily, hair a messy halo that he itches to tangle his fingers in. She looks down at him, taking him in, laid out, not a damn thing he can do. He bares his teeth at her, and lifts his hips as best he can to meet her, throwing what little leverage he has behind the thrusts.

He can tell she's there when she just drops herself on him and freezes, head thrown back, hands fisting in the sheets at Hook's sides, her voice one continual string of _ohgodfuckfuuuckkyessss_. She clamps down on him and it throws him off the edge after her, muttering curses of his own. By the time he's come down, she's sprawled bonelessly across him, head tucked comfortably under his chin, which he would find utterly endearing(and would make fun of later) if it weren't for the fact that he still can't move his hand and he desperately wants to run his hand through her hair, cup her cheek, anything. He wants to touch.

"Emma, love, d'you mind..." he trails off, nodding at the nightstand where the simple key to her handcuffs lay. She makes a muffled whining noise against his chest, but rolls off of him and reaches for the key before unlocking his wrist from the cuffs. He quickly tugs at the rope binding his hook to the headboard and takes advantage of the moment to roll himself over Emma, holding her down with his body as he does what he's been trying to do all night; he runs his fingers across her skin, down her neck, across her chest, stomach, hip before returning to her face. She's smiling against him when he leans in to kiss her, angling their heads so he can explore what was previously denied to him.

When he's finished reacquainting himself with her mouth and the smooth line of her neck, he lets himself lay next to her, smirk firmly in place.

"That was...interesting," he says, eying her for her reaction. True to form, she rolls against him and props herself up with her elbow.

"Interesting? That's all you have to say? Really?" He just grins wider.

"Very well, it was very interesting, if you prefer." She's giving him the look. The one that says she is not above beating the shit out of him if it comes to it. But he is determined to not be the one who caves first, and he's right. She rolls her eyes at him again and lays her head back down against his chest.

"I guess it was okay," she says smugly, and gods damn it.

"Darling, you just had sex with _me_. I'd say it was hardly "okay". At the very least it was _mindblowing_," he says, affronted at her suggestion. He can feel her smile against his skin.

"Ah, so it was _mindblowing_, you say..." she trails off, knowing she just beat him at his own game.

"Go to sleep," he growls into her hair. She just laughs, it's infectious, her laugh; he's smiling too. She snuggles further against him and makes a contented noise. He's never going to get tired of these little moments, where it's like a whole different Emma shows her face.

He kind of sort of loves this Emma.

But never tell her that.

She'd probably poke him in the ribs if she ever found out. And then she'd chain him to her bed again. Well. Maybe he should consider bringing it up. Over breakfast, perhaps. After she takes her first sip of coffee.

Yes, the plan is starting to form. Let it never be said that Captain Hook doesn't take time to perfect the ideal plot.

He grins, his fingers finally playing in her hair.

"Stop it," she growls sleepily through her own curtain of hair. Ordinarily he would tease her, but he obliges. He's got a morning to plan.


End file.
